Sensing that Saroja wouldn’t step out again on her own, the old woman said, ‘Come and help me lift the basket on to my head, and then go and lie on the cot. A new bride . . . you may not have slept properly in the night. For some time, Nōndi won’t let you sleep; he will torment you and crumple you like anything. Help me with the basket and then go back in, Aaya.’

Saroja was irritated with this idle talk, but she stepped outside to help the woman. Suddenly, the woman touched the chain around Saroja’s neck and said, ‘Is this gold, dear?’

Saroja just said, ‘Hmm.’

‘People say that in the towns you now get brass chains that look just like gold. That’s why I asked,’ said the old woman.

Saroja gently freed the chain from the probing hands of the woman. Something terrified her.

‘How many sovereigns?’ the woman asked, her shrunken face full of curiosity.

She’ll share the information with everyone in the village, thought Saroja. Perhaps I should exaggerate the value of this gold chain. Or will that lead to trouble too? In the end, she didn’t reply, but just smiled. The old woman did not know what to make of her smile, and Saroja enjoyed the look of confusion on her face.

But the old granny was not going to leave her at that. ‘Come closer,’ she said, and pulled Saroja towards her. ‘I don’t know what caste you are from, but be very careful with these people,’ she whispered in a gossipy tone. ‘Nōndi has brought you here and set you up alone on this rock. He doesn’t have many relatives on his father’s side in the vicinity. A distant relative or two might drop by occasionally. Other­wise, nothing much. But relatives on his mother’s side are clustered around here like worms. Uncles and granduncles, several of them. They might strangle you to death, and then apply some blue dye on your body and claim that you were bitten by a poisonous snake. You cannot rely on Nōndi. They might wait until he goes somewhere, and then try to chase you away in his absence. They could do anything. Be careful.’

When she looked up at Saroja’s face, she saw that it had paled in fear.

‘Did you come straight here after the wedding, or did you go and register your marriage with the government first?’ she asked.

‘We didn’t register it,’ Saroja muttered in reply.

‘Force him to take you with him to get the marriage registered,’ the old woman advised Saroja. ‘That is the only hold you have. It will scare them into thinking that if they do anything to you, they will have to answer to the government. You have left your people and caste and have come here, placing your trust in him. Who do you have here? None of these dogs will speak for you. You might have caught hold of a strong tamarind branch, as the saying goes, but it is your job to hold on to it tightly, isn’t it?’